Attention Deficit
by Demi-Saiyajin Prodigy
Summary: Goku and Piccolo:  they've never been around at the same time before.  During the training for the jinzouningen, a tension develops between them as Gohan's attention is divided for the first time.  Their old rivalry has taken shape into a new one . . .


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragonball Z. It and its characters are property of Akira Toriyama and Bird Studios and were used without prior permission.

**Attention Deficit**

So there were a couple of clouds in the sky, only letting slim shafts of sunlight through. It didn't matter; Goku could have lit the heavens into blinding brilliance himself that day -- and he didn't have to go Super Saiyajin or use any ki blasts to do it.

He hopped down from the top of the stairs, intending to reach the bottom all in one bound. Halfway through the jump, however, he thought that ChiChi might not appreciate the noise he was sure to make upon landing. A split second before his feet hit the floor, he alighted on his ki instead. Silently, he brought himself down the rest of the way. Upsetting his wife would have been a rotten thing to do, especially on what should be a really great day.

Some who knew him might have been a little surprised at how chipper he was this morning. After all, he was not embarking on a day of training, a day of the sheer exhilaration of combat. Oh, he loved the stuff all right, and with that warning given from Vegeta and Bulma's future son he had the best excuse in the world to do it, but even he needed some down time. Today, they got to take a break and have a different kind of fun. He had been looking forward to this all week.

He smelled breakfast well before he reached the kitchen, which reaffirmed his wisdom in keeping quiet. ChiChi was known to withhold meals from him if she got mad enough, and it would be a shame to be denied such a basic necessity as food. After all, a man had to eat.

Upon entering the aforementioned room, Goku found ChiChi standing over the stove, looking as prim and professional as ever. Having every burner going at once while having something cooking within might have frazzled most cooks, but ChiChi handled it with grace and only the occasional grumble. But her grumbles usually weren't serious; it had taken Goku several months to figure that out. He supposed those "mood swings" during her pregnancy had made things a little confusing for the both of them.

She was grumbling right now, as a matter of fact, and Goku frowned. This sounded like one of her serious grumbles. Boy, he hoped it was nothing that he had done.

"Morning, ChiChi!" he called in his brightest voice, hoping to bring her out of her foul mood.

Her head whipped around to face him, and he took a step back from the fierce expression before it softened a fraction. "Good morning," ChiChi said at last. "At least I know that you'll stay for breakfast, unlike a certain someone else this morning."

Goku blinked at this for a moment, then finally realized who she was talking about. He cast his senses about the house, searching for the familiar ki and finding it absent. Hm. "So where did Gohan take off to so early?"

ChiChi roughly pulled a chair out from the table. "Sit."

In no position to argue, Goku obeyed, and even folded his hands in his lap and bowed his head. He had the oddest feeling that he'd said something wrong. ChiChi slammed a plate of food down in front of him, nearly shattering that plate in the process, and Goku was just disturbed enough to avoid digging right in, no matter how delicious it smelled.

"Our son," she began tightly, "rushed out early so that he could spend the day with Piccolo."

He had? Goku cast his senses further afield and sure enough felt both Gohan and Piccolo's ki signatures close together a few miles away from the house. Goku frowned slightly. But nothing was amiss about either of them, so there was really nothing to worry about. And Goku wasn't worried, but there was some other feeling in him, a cloud over his once sunny mood. He'd been planning on spending the time playing with Gohan today. They hadn't gotten to do that much lately.

"You know that I don't like Gohan hanging around with him," ChiChi continued, taking her own seat. "With you there, it's at least not so bad. He's supervised -- Piccolo, I mean."

Goku lifted his head, banished the cloud with a smile. "Aw, come on, ChiChi. Piccolo's not a bad guy. If he were a bad influence on Gohan, I really think that we would have seen it by now. And if he were going to hurt him, he'd have done it a long time ago. He's had the perfect opportunity, and he didn't take it."

ChiChi gave him a dark look. "Goku, I know you like to believe the best about people, but can you honestly think that he's never hurt our little boy?"

"Never seriously. Some scrapes and burns and bruises come with the territory when you're training. Just the way things are. Gohan's obviously doing okay."

Goku eyed ChiChi carefully, gauging her reaction. This was an oft-repeated disagreement between the two of them, and sometimes she could explode with rage over the issue. He took note of the signs: clenched jaw, slightly flushed cheeks, but weary eyes. She was angry, she was frustrated, but she wasn't about to fly into a fury. That was a good thing; ChiChi was scary when she started yelling.

At last, ChiChi sighed. "I still don't like this. Maybe I'm out of touch because I haven't actually trained since we got married, but you can't expect me to just stop worrying about him. He's out there, playing with a demon."

For a second, Goku considered pointing out that Piccolo wasn't exactly a demon, and technically never had been. That was just what everyone had called him -- including Piccolo himself -- before the word "Namekseijin" had been added to their vocabularies. Goku thought better of this consideration, however.

Instead, he offered her some consolation. "Look, I don't think anything is going to go wrong. But if it does, I'll sense it and I can be there in less than a flash."

That actually elicited a tiny smile from ChiChi. "I suppose that's true. Goodness knows how many times you've snuck up on me with that crazy trick. I swear you think it's funny to see me jump like that."

Sensing that a critical point had passed, Goku grinned and at last dug into his breakfast. "And since Gohan's okay for the day," he said, trying to get the words in between bites rather than around them, "why don't we go and do something together? Just you and me."

He acknowledged ChiChi's agreement with a slight incline of his head, too focused on breakfast to offer much more. And it wasn't only breakfast that he was focused upon; a small yet powerful corner of mind was locked intensely on the ki signatures of Piccolo and Gohan. He hadn't done this intentionally, and spared a second to wonder why.

He honestly trusted Piccolo, so why should there be a problem?

* * *

The giggling was starting to grate on his nerves. It was an irritant at the best of times, but after an hour of it, he was about to belt the kid for not shutting up. Of course, Piccolo logically knew that it would do no good; he'd smacked Gohan down for being annoying before, and instead of quieting him, it only seemed to make him giggle harder. That was the only reason Piccolo didn't do it, really. It wasn't because he actually liked the kid or anything -- the sacrifice a couple of years ago notwithstanding.

"And then Daddy went . . . Piccolo-san? Are you listening?"

Piccolo opened one eye to briefly glare down at the small boy lounging in the grass beside him. Gohan was grinning up at him still, not looking curious at all in spite of his question. The grin widened a bit, and he gave a slight nod of his head.

"Oh, you are. Okay, like I was saying . . ."

And on the story went. No big surprise, honestly; Gohan was a pretty naive kid in spite of the battles he'd been through, but he could recognize empty threats better than most. At least as far as Piccolo went.

Gohan burst into another fit of giggles, having reached the end of his tale. Piccolo had only half-listened to the thing, but rolled his eyes beneath their lids. As if he'd needed more proof of Son's foolishness. The story did nothing to amuse him, it being only humorous to either children or fools and Piccolo was certainly neither of those. The stories were always about Son, too; even when not present his old nemesis found a way to vex him. Gohan just wouldn't shut up about the man, and though Piccolo understood why, that didn't mean that he had to enjoy it.

He shouldn't have been listening to little domestic tales, anyway. With the threat of the incoming jinzouningen, he should have been locked in combat with his young student, pushing both the boy and himself to higher power and greater skill. When preparing for the arrival of the Saiyajins, Piccolo had allowed no off days, even when the boy vehemently insisted upon them. Just because they had more time in this case didn't mean that there was any to waste.

But try telling that to Son. The fool always took things far too lightly. Going to die of a heart condition? "Oh, that's nothing to worry about." Everyone save his son fated to be slaughtered at the hands of two jinzouningen? "Relax; we can take care of that."

Honestly, had Piccolo been in the possession of hair, he would have torn it out in frustration by now. And all the while he would wonder how such a complete idiot had managed to defeat him all those years ago. Some would say that he had simply been out powered, but that was not true. There was more to battle than mere power, and he and Son had been relatively even in that respect, anyway. Skill? Again, no great disparity. Their greatest differences lay in their intellectual abilities – and Piccolo's superiority there had not helped him in the end . . .

A wave crashed over him, roaring in his ears and soaking through his gi. In fact, it would have knocked him over had he not the instinct to brace his ki against the jarring motion. He did not have to wonder at the source.

No, not a second of pondering was necessary to attribute the wave to Gohan, who was on his back, wracked with laughter. More exasperated than angry, he glared down at the boy and willed him to take the hint.

He didn't.

"I guess that's what you get for not listening!" Gohan managed between giggles. He made an effort to sit up and compose himself, only managing the first of those objectives; more laughter bubbled forth from his lips. "I'm sorry, sir, but you should see your face right now!"

Piccolo tried to resist it, but he couldn't; he felt one corner of his mouth twitch upward. Well, if that was the way the kid wanted to play it . . . He focused his ki on the river and thrust up a massive wave of his own.

"Waugh!" Gohan's laughter cut off amid the rush of water, and the boy tumbled into the river from the sheer force.

Piccolo kept his face blank while Gohan splashed and sputtered in the waves and made no move to fish him out. He didn't need to; the kid wasn't half as much the pampered mama's boy he had been when Piccolo had kidnapped him for training those mere few years ago. He could make it out by himself.

Sure enough, Gohan pulled himself out of the water, thoroughly soaked and shivering the slightest bit. Small coughs escaped his throat, but he climbed to his feet with ease and even smiled.

"And I guess that is what happens when little brats let their guard down," Piccolo said.

Gohan shrugged off the mild insult as Piccolo had known he would; he nodded once. "Yeah, I guess it is." Gohan's ki flared up for a second, and Piccolo braced himself for another splash. But the boy had only done it to dry himself off before flopping down next to him. "You know, that was fun. Kinda reminds me of playing with Daddy; he loves splash fights."

And yet again the talk turned to Son. Piccolo had been somewhat hoping that the break in conversation – or, more accurately, the break in Gohan's storytelling – would lead to a change of subject. After knowing the kid for four years, Piccolo would have thought he knew better than that by now.

He closed his eyes, pretending to listen and not be bothered as Gohan's tales began anew.

* * *

The sun was low in the sky by the time that Goku reached the clearing. Well, he was just outside of the clearing and not actually in it. He couldn't quite say why, really; that vaguely unpleasant taste in his mind had been with him all day. Not that he hadn't had fun being out with ChiChi – in spite of what ChiChi thought about herself sometimes, she was not a boring person – but he had been uncharacteristically concerned about Gohan being with Piccolo.

Perhaps that was why he had walked here instead of using his Instant Transmission technique or even just flying. The former would have put him right behind the two of them, and the latter would have left him easily detected. Then he wouldn't have been able to just stand here and watch them a bit.

It was a cozy, pleasant little scene that under normal circumstances would have had him grinning. Piccolo sat in the air in his usual meditative posture, head bowed, arms folded across his chest. And in his lap, Gohan was curled, quite contentedly finishing off a fish that he had no doubt plucked from the river by his own hand. Once, Goku might have taken the opportunity to laugh and good-naturedly tease Piccolo about being daddy-like, as Goku liked to put it.

But today, no grin came forth. And if anything were to escape his throat, it would have to make it through a sudden obstruction that he could not explain. Something about the scene before him struck him as inappropriate. Goku shook his head. By Kami, what was wrong with him today?

He must have either made a sound or a slip-up in his ki concealment, because Piccolo glanced up in his direction. Piccolo's eyes doubled in size momentarily and he made a little noise of disgust as he shoved Gohan out of his lap. Unprepared, Gohan landed roughly, but ended up using the momentum to roll to his feet.

"Son, since when did you take to spying on people?" Piccolo demanded.

Goku was prepared to answer, though some corner of his mind told him that this was a rhetorical question. Gohan managed to speak up before he did.

"Oh! Hi, Daddy! How long have you been here? I didn't even sense you."

And now the time for speech seemed lost. Goku's eyes remained on Piccolo, who met his gaze unflinchingly. There was a certain irritation on Piccolo's face. That certainly wasn't unusual – Piccolo was a pretty touchy guy – but there was something else to it. His brow ridges were pulled low, narrowing the eyes dangerously. His jaw was clenched, corners of his mouth pulled down slightly. He had seen Piccolo wear such an expression before, though not in quite a while. Not in years, since they had been enemies before Gohan's birth.

What had brought this on all of a sudden? Goku could not recall anything he had done lately to warrant this kind of reaction. Sure, he had kind of been spying on him with Gohan just now, but that hardly seemed something to get this upset about – even for Piccolo.

After all, Goku surely hadn't been regarding him with a similar expression since he had been discovered. He just didn't do things like that.

"I guess it's time to go home now, isn't it, Daddy?" Gohan's voice broke the silence, content and not the least bit strained. The air was practically on fire with tension, yet he seemed completely oblivious.

Goku slid his eyes away from Piccolo to look fondly down at his son. "Yep. It's gonna be dark soon, and you know your mom doesn't like it when you're out that late."

"Aw, I can take care of myself," Gohan said as he took his arm. "But even if I couldn't, Piccolo-san is here and he wouldn't let anything happen to me."

Piccolo's only response was to give a single grunt and bow his head back into meditative position.

What Gohan had said was entirely true of course; Goku knew that very well. Piccolo was no longer this vicious evil monster that people tended to make him out to be. In actuality, Goku had never really believed that this incarnation of Piccolo had been all that bad. He knew that ChiChi's concern was that Piccolo might do Gohan harm. And while Goku did not share that concern, he was becoming more leery of letting Gohan have any alone time with him.

He just didn't know why.

"See ya tomorrow, Piccolo-san!" Gohan cheerfully waved his free hand.

With a grin for the sake of appearances, Goku pressed his first two fingers to his forehead and locked onto ChiChi's ki signature. A split second of concentration and the forest vanished from view, instantaneously replaced by the kitchen back home. ChiChi smiled at him indulgently, for once not startled by his sudden appearance.

"Safe and sound, as usual," Goku said, giving Gohan a little nudge forward for ChiChi to scoop him up in a hug.

"I had such a good day, Mom!" Gohan began as soon as ChiChi released him. "You know, you really ought to try talking to Piccolo-san sometime; he has a lot of really neat things to say." Here he paused, canted his head. "Well, if you manage to get him to actually talk, that is."

ChiChi stopped short at this, exercising visible restraint. Finally, she managed to get a few words out. "I'm sure that he does, sweetie. But I don't know that he and I would be able to have much of a conversation."

Gohan simply shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. I still think you should try sometime."

After another uncomfortable pause, "We'll see, honey."

Feeling oddly left out of the conversation, Goku piped up. "You know what, kiddo?" He gave Gohan another playful nudge. "We didn't get to hang out today like I'd been planning. How about we scare up a little bit of excitement before Mom here drags us both off to bed?"

Why he was relieved to see Gohan's face light up was something that he wasn't sure of. There were a lot of those things today. Contrary to popular belief, he generally had a pretty good idea of what was going on around him, but today he was just clueless.

"Oh, that sounds great, Daddy! Maybe we could --"

"Tut tut," came ChiChi's voice. "Remember, Gohan-chan you said that you would do some extra studying on your off days? You've been gone since morning and I don't think you cracked a book when you were with Piccolo."

Gohan's face fell. "Oh. Yeah." He looked up at Goku apologetically. "Sorry, Daddy. Looks like we'll have to do it some other time, huh?"

For once, Goku wished that Gohan would have contested his mother on this point. He hated to argue – they both did – but this issue just seemed so important. A glance up at ChiChi, her stern face reminding him of the deal they had made when Goku had first told her of the jinzouningen, and Goku had no choice but to relent. A promise was a promise.

"Yeah. I guess so." He tousled Gohan's hair. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure we can find the time to have both a training break and a study break."

Gohan grinned up at him and nodded. With those simple gestures behind him, he trotted off to his room.

* * *

Combat really was a beautiful thing. He had always thought so, even from the youngest age that he could remember. Oh, now he knew that it was a throwback to his alien roots, but that didn't really bother him. He had gotten over the whole disgust at been a Saiyajin thing a couple of years ago. It just wasn't worth the energy to worry about something out of his control. Besides, who you were mattered a whole lot more than what you were. Whatever his ancestors had done, even though it was wrong, really wasn't relevant.

It didn't mean that he couldn't appreciate the loveliness of bodies weaving around each other, searching for openings, feeling the satisfying impact of a successful blow. Or even just of watching such a thing, as he was doing at this very moment.

Gohan had really progressed over the past several months. Goku hadn't actually seen him fight much before. Oh, sure there had been the whole thing against Vegeta, but Goku had been kind of distracted by the pain and instructing Kuririn in the use of the Spirit Bomb. Before this training, he had never gotten to see just how good Gohan actually was.

Currently, Gohan was locked in a sparring match with Piccolo, and was doing rather well. The two seemed pretty evenly matched, Gohan using his smaller size to every advantage that he could; Piccolo's longer reach meant that he had no choice but to fight at dangerously close range, but it also meant that he had to move less to evade any attacks. Each of them would blur at any turn, speeds escalating to points where only the best trained eyes could keep pace. Solid thuds of fists or feet against flesh echoed through the air.

Periodically, they would break apart, regaining strength and assessing their next moves. Ki blasts would light the cloudy skies with unnatural yet lovely colours. Goku recognized most of those blasts; Piccolo had been using several of them for years and had either taught them to Gohan, or Gohan had simply picked them up by watching.

Oh. There was a mistake; Gohan missed a kick and overextended himself. And Piccolo, being Piccolo, capitalized on this error instantly. He drove an elbow into Gohan's back. Gohan plummeted a few feet before turning to right himself – another mistake here; he should have ridden the momentum or flipped it into a counter – and was greeted with a fist to the stomach. A hard fist, one more audible than most of the blows, wrapped up in a wall of ki. Even Goku had to wince at that one; the blow probably hadn't damaged Gohan much, but still – that had to hurt.

Hitting the ground had to hurt, too, and that's exactly what Gohan did next. A brief cry and a rising cloud of dirt made that much very clear. With a fond smile, Goku lowered himself to the ground next to him. Gohan was coughing a little on the dust he had kicked up, and Goku knelt to offer him his hand. After a moment, Gohan took it and let Goku pull him to his feet.

At some point during the short time between Gohan's hitting the ground and Goku helping him up, Piccolo had landed nearby. Goku glanced up at him, noticing the deliberate rolling of eyes at this action. He knew that Piccolo didn't approve of giving helping hands unless it was absolutely necessary. Since Gohan was very obviously okay, Piccolo would see this as coddling him. Goku could see the results of Piccolo's philosophy; Gohan had more power and skill than any child should. Piccolo was a good teacher; he just wasn't a sympathetic one.

"Son, I think your kid is more than capable of getting himself off the ground on his own." Piccolo folded his arms over his chest. "Although that's clearly not something he ever learned at home. I'm surprised he could walk by the time I got ahold of him."

It might have been Goku's imagination, but the words carried an excessively nasty edge. Ever since yesterday, there had been a tension between them, both like and unlike the tension they had when they had been enemies.

Still, he shrugged it off. "Aw, Piccolo, it's not a real fight. Nothing wrong with giving him a hand."

"Yeah, Piccolo-san. We're just training," Gohan said. "I don't see what the big deal is; I know not to expect help in a fight."

Piccolo gave a long-suffering sigh. "You're impossible. Both of you."

Goku grinned at this, and Gohan let out a strained giggle. Brow furrowing, Goku gave Gohan's ribs a light prod. When he hissed in pain, Goku frowned. "Looks like that last one bruised a couple of ribs. Better sit out for a while and let that clear up a bit."

"I feel fine, Daddy." Gohan shook his head, determination flooding his eyes. "I can keep going; it's no problem."

"Not now, but it could be one if you don't let it rest. You don't want to be too much of a wreck when we get home, do you? You know how your mom might react."

Gohan made a face at that, no doubt picturing the fluttery panic that ChiChi would be sent into upon seeing him injured. And how she would closely scrutinize any wounds before cleaning and bandaging them herself, all the while muttering how he shouldn't be doing any such thing so dangerous. It was a scenario they had experienced before.

After a moment, Gohan nodded vigorously. "Good point."

Goku felt his grin return. "Atta boy. You just take it easy." He looked over his shoulder at Piccolo. "Besides, it's about time I got a bit of a workout too, right?"

"And a workout is what you'll get. Super Saiyajin or not."

With a merry laugh, Goku lifted himself off the ground, shooting several hundred feet straight up in a single motion. Piccolo followed mere seconds after; and it had only taken him that long because he took the time to shed his cape and turban. He tended to wear them for the first part of the day and then get rid of them as time wore on. Or when he expected serious competition. In this case, it was probably both.

"You really sure you can keep up?" Goku teased.

Piccolo stood unperturbed in the sky, not in a combat stance but still tensed to attack. "Anybody ever bother to tell you that you're a hopeless failure at psychological warfare?"

And so it began, with Piccolo taking the offensive as Goku had expected he would. Piccolo was an intelligent, tactical fighter, but he was also an aggressive one. Goku knocked his fist aside, bringing his knee forward in the same motion. Before he could connect, Piccolo blurred out of his sight and Goku ducked instinctively to feel a rush of wind from a roundhouse kick over his head.

Goku snapped his leg back, feeling his boot connect with a ribcage. He twisted about, bringing his fist up for a backhand that also connected. This was the last blow to make it however, as Piccolo recovered and darted out of his reach. Goku paused for a second, not taking the bait. Piccolo was backing off a little in order to trick him into overextending, just as he had done with Gohan.

In response to his lack of action, Piccolo fired off a ki blast so rapidly that Goku was unable to dodge. It hit him squarely in the chest, sending him rocketing toward the ground.

He rode the momentum, waiting for the telltale sound of Piccolo following him down. When he could practically hear his former rival's breath in his ear, he blurred out of sight and reappeared behind him. He gathered what strength he dared – it was easier than people thought to lose control and slip into Super Saiyajin accidentally – he drove his fist into Piccolo's back.

Piccolo did not have time enough to recover from the blow; he slammed into the ground. Goku levitated above the cloud of dust, knowing that it was a matter of perhaps a second or two before he would be beset by a new assault.

"Yeah! Go, Daddy!" Gohan's voice cheered from the sidelines. The sound was more encouraging than usual, for some reason.

The distraction cost him, though. Piccolo roared up from the ground and managed a hard strike to his chest, sending him catapulting back into the air. Well, darn it. That hadn't been too smart. Much as he appreciated the encouragement, he couldn't afford to be listening to Gohan in a situation like this.

He and Piccolo settled into an almost comfortable staccato of blows after that. Oh, Goku wasn't on auto pilot, by any means. If he were, Piccolo would have noticed that instantly and switched tactic so suddenly that he would not have time to rally a defence. No, auto pilot would have been a bad thing. But the match just wasn't up to the standard of difficulty that he set for himself these days.

Still, as the match wore on, Goku felt his mind drift a bit –

A series of blows to his face and sides had him plummeting to the earth before he even knew what was happening. Ground gave way under him, dirt tearing light, bloody tracks in his skin. Whoops. Nothing to worry about though; before he even stopped sliding across the ground, Goku gathered his legs under himself and sprang back into the sky.

"Nice one, Piccolo-san!" called Gohan's voice from some distance.

That one hurt. He didn't know why; it just did. But wasn't he supposed to be putting the cheering section out of his mind?

Goku returned his concentration to the fight. Even so, he could vaguely hear Gohan on the sidelines, alternating his cheers.

Without really meaning to, Goku began to realize something. Whenever Gohan's cheers favoured Piccolo, he would fight more aggressively, like something about the whole thing angered him somehow. Well, that was just silly. Why should he be angry about his son cheering for his best friend?

Goku decided that he wasn't angry. But after yet another joyous cheer when Piccolo managed get the upper hand on him, Goku felt his control slip just a bit. And a bit was enough.

He shot up a mere two feet, very abruptly, bordering on the speed of his Instant Transmission, and snapped his foot onto Piccolo's elbow, hard. Very hard. The joint gave a wet pop and gave way under the force. Piccolo grunted in pain, although to his credit, the grunt was a quiet one.

Startled by his own action, Goku pulled back a few feet, as much to gather his thoughts as to take a break and reassess strategy as he had done on several occasions. What on Earth had he just done? This was only a simple sparring match, and he'd had no intention of causing any real harm. It wasn't necessary in this kind of situation.

For his part, Piccolo smiled grimly at him, fangs peeking out over his lip. He looked like he rather approved, actually. "So," he said between laboured breaths, "you've shed enough inhibitions to actually fight properly. Credit where credit is due. I'm actually impressed."

Goku smiled nervously. In spite of his discomfort, he decided that he should probably keep quiet about his feelings until he understood things a little better. Piccolo tended to get annoyed with him when he expressed confusion on a subject, and he just wasn't up to dealing with any potential verbal abuse. Just let Piccolo enjoy the moment on whatever weird level he was doing so.

So he banished the matter with his trademark grin. "Well, I do like to impress you on occasion, Piccolo. It keeps the world nice and insane for you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, perhaps that was your true purpose in being sent here. Not to destroy the planet, but to ruin my sanity."

Goku's smile became genuine at this comment – good to see the less nasty Piccolo there. But his smile could only last for a second as Piccolo once more blurred out of sight to whip a kick toward his face.

Goku easily titled his head back to evade the kick and brought the heel of his hand up into Piccolo's face. The blow connected, crunching the nose a little bit. This time, Piccolo did not fall back; he whirled around in another vicious kick. Goku had no time to evade this strike; he raised his arm to block and braced for the sudden impact.

That impact was stronger than he had expected. At the last possible fraction of a second,. Piccolo had sent a surge of ki into that leg, multiplying its force. Goku felt a grunt of pain escape his lips; bone creaked under his flesh, but did not break. And just as Piccolo a second ago, he did not relent.

Instead, he extended his palm flat against Piccolo's chest and fired a concussion blast. Piccolo catapulted away from him, tumbling end over end from the force.

Goku took a brief respite to assess the damage in his arm. It still hurt, but overall did not seem too serious. He could probably still use the arm to fight, even blocking again. Although he would certainly have to watch out for that last second ki enhancement that Piccolo was pulling off.

This time, Goku took the offensive, darting forward to meet his old rival. The air shook as they met, throwing kicks and punches that put lightning speed to shame. Halfway through this session, Goku noted that Piccolo was making more calculated strikes at the arm that he had injured just a moment ago. No doubt he knew that he had caused some amount of injury and was looking to capitalize on it, forcing him to abandon the arm's use in order to avoid serious damage.

And so Goku let it drop. Fighting only with one hand now, he was much harder pressed than before. It just went to show you that power was not everything in battle; even without the Super Saiyajin transformation, Goku's power far outstripped Piccolo's now, yet his former rival was still able to give him a good match. On the spot strategizing was what it was all about, was what Goku had been good at all his life. That, more than anything else, had allowed him to gain the victories that he had.

Take now for example. He created the illusion that he already considered it too dangerous to be using his arm. Thus Piccolo pressed him more – claws searched for his face and nearly found it – but at the right time, when Goku needed the dropped hand in order to defend . . . Well, that would be it.

And then it happened. A wide kick to his outside right, with enough potency to crack a few ribs. With a taut grin, Goku lifted his arm to block --

And Piccolo melted from his sight momentarily and came up from beneath him. And too late, Goku realized that though the tactic had changed, the target had not.

"Gah!" Piccolo's hard-packed fist rammed into the back of his elbow, and this time there was a crunch. Goku gritted his teeth, waited for the next attack. But it didn't come. Perhaps because of the voice that rose uncomfortably close to them.

"Daddy!"

Goku took a moment off from the sharp pains shooting through his arm to see Gohan floating less than twenty feet away, face awash with concern. And Piccolo had stopped, panting from the intensity of the battle.

Evidently encouraged by the end of the match, Gohan flew forward, eyes wide. "Are you okay?"

Goku smiled reassuringly. "Oh, sure. Nothing to worry about. Walked away from a lot of fights that got me worse than this."

Gohan smiled in relief, and glanced over in Piccolo's direction. He winced. "Yikes. Looks like you got each other pretty good."

Blinking, Goku looked up at Piccolo. He hadn't noticed before, wrapped up in trying to discover the reason for his unnatural aggression, but Piccolo's right arm was bent at an odd angle, a pretty painful-looking position. Goku glanced down at his own arm. It really didn't look like it was in a whole lot better shape. Kinda funny how that worked out.

Or it might have been funny if he had failed to see the truth in the matter. That Piccolo's intent had been to give back the same injury that he had been given. Kind of made sense, he supposed. In a disturbing sort of way.

Piccolo's face screwed up in concentration, and Goku could taste the sedate flow of ki enter the air. This was not an attack – Goku doubted he would have dared such a thing with Gohan so close – but what he had expected him to do earlier. Regeneration. Goku watched with interest as the first visual signs came about. Arm extended, unnatural kinks winding themselves out. In less than a minute, the injury was completely banished as far as Goku could tell. A handy little trick. Shame it was only available to Namekseijin. His own wound would not be so simple.

A wry smirk came across Piccolo's lips. "So. You've surprised me today. Care to make it twice by deciding to keep going?"

Mutely, Goku shook his head. A part of him would have loved to, whispering to him that this had been the best match that he'd had in months and he should see it out to the end. But he didn't trust that part of himself. At least not when there was that awful and foreign aggression underneath. Continuing might be too risky – for Piccolo.

For his part, Piccolo opened his mouth for what would no doubt be a tart reply, but then his gaze slipped over to Gohan. Something about his posture relaxed, and he gave a half sigh, half grumble. "Well, just don't laze about tomorrow. I still expect you to be out here."

Without another word, Piccolo lowered himself to the ground, likely to collect his cape and turban.

Goku turned to Gohan. "Come on, son. We'd better get back home."

Gohan nodded, face solemn. But then his lips quirked a bit. "And here you were talking about how Mom would freak out if I came back hurt."

* * *

The one good side to having her entire family out of the house, ChiChi reflected, was that she was finally able to get the housework done. Dusting, vacuuming, dishwashing . . . They were all so much easier without the constant offers of help and the subsequent accidental breaking of things should she have been foolish enough to accept.

She placed the last of the lunch dishes back into the cupboard and glanced out the window. It was such a lovely day outside, the kind that she had to stop and admire once in a while. Though she came from a spacious castle that had rested upon a mountaintop, there was a certain charm in actually staring up at the mountains from a cozy little house.

But then something caught her attention. ChiChi paused, blinked to make sure what she was seeing was indeed accurate. And it was, both Goku and Gohan were returning, far earlier than what she was accustomed to. Her stomach knotted. Had things gotten too rough? Had Piccolo injured her baby boy so much that they had needed to leave? Powerful or not, if he had hurt her boy, she would find a way to . . .

ChiChi darted out of the kitchen, anxiety lending her legs an extra measure of strength. She burst out of the front door just as her husband and son touched down in the front yard. "Gohan-chan! My baby! Are you okay?"

She threw her arms around him before he could answer. The poor thing would need comfort and a shoulder to cry on if the pain were too much.

Gohan squirmed in her grasp. "Um . . . Mom, I'm okay. Not hurt at all, honest."

Such a brave little boy, putting on a show for his mother. ChiChi pulled back – goodness, she shouldn't have been hugging him so tightly; it could have made things worse – and examined him thoroughly, peering in close at his face for bruising, and prodding him all over to check for broken bones. To her surprise and relief, she found nothing wrong.

She relaxed instantly, then turned her eyes up to Goku to ask him why they had returned so early. Now, she gasped. Goku had scratches all over his body and was carefully cradling his right arm with his left hand. His face carried a pinched look that he was quite clearly trying to hide. ChiChi didn't know why he even bothered with such things.

"My goodness. Goku what happened?"

Goku smiled bashfully, a sure sign that he had done something stupid. Normally, this would have been accompanied by putting one hand behind his head, but he couldn't do that at the moment for obvious reasons. "Just got a bit carried away. Don't have to go and get too upset about it."

ChiChi frowned. As if she ever worried needlessly over anything. "I'm not supposed to get upset that my husband might have a broken arm?"

"Aw, ChiChi, it's not broken –"

She pointed to the door. "In the house. Now. No arguments, mister."

As usual, Goku knew better than to argue with her and veritably strolled through the still open front door. ChiChi followed him, with Gohan close at her heels.

Goku was sitting on the couch by the time they got in, and ChiChi prompted him once more. "Now tell me what happened."

"Daddy and Piccolo-san were sparring," Gohan supplied for him. "I was taking a break from my training with Piccolo-san because . . ." Here he trailed off, and gave her a wary glance. "Uh . . . because I was getting tired. They were having a pretty good match; I couldn't see half of the stuff they were doing. Things must have gone overboard."

ChiChi nodded grimly as she watched Goku avert his eyes. So that was it. Or some of it, really. She had a feeling that Gohan didn't have a grasp of all the details. And those details were not likely to be pleasant. No need for him to be in the room to hear them. "Gohan-chan, be a sweetheart and go get the bandages while I check on your daddy."

Gohan nodded and strolled out of the room.

ChiChi waited until she was sure he was out of earshot before sitting herself down beside Goku. "Well there's the outside report. I think I'd like a few details though."

Goku wouldn't meet her eyes. "There's really not that much more to tell. I guess Piccolo and I just both slipped up a little. It happens every now and then. Doesn't mean that there has to be any story behind it."

"Son Goku, don't you even try lying to me. Since when did you try to do such a thing and why do you think it would even work?"

"There's really nothing," Goku insisted. Hedging again.

ChiChi merely regarded him sternly, waiting for the moment that he would crack under her scrutiny. He always did.

"Okay." Goku sighed in resignation, glanced toward the hallway for the likely purpose of making sure that Gohan wasn't on the way back. "You know I don't usually lose my head; I'm pretty controlled about my power and all. The whole thing was pretty innocent at first. I didn't really mean to do it . . ."

Here, he stopped, lightly jerked his head back toward the hallway. ChiChi understood instantly; Gohan was returning and Goku would rather not have him hear what he was about to say. Saiyajin hearing really must have been amazing, for she didn't hear Gohan's steps until he was almost in the room.

"Here you go, Mom." Small hands proffered the bandages. His face carried not a worry; either he understood nothing about the injury or he was simply numb to such things. ChiChi reflected, more than a little sadly, that it was probably the latter.

"Thank you, Gohan-chan." She took the bandages from him. "Now why don't you go over the next chapter in your geology book while I take care of this? If you're not going to train today, you should at least do something productive."

Gohan pouted. "Now? But Mom, I . . ."

"Your mom's right, Gohan. Gotta do something. We're okay here."

Gohan gave Goku a puzzled look – not surprising, considering how rarely his father told him to go and study – but shrugged obediently and headed off to his room.

"Goku . . ."

He raised a finger to shush her. After a few seconds, he lowered the finger and continued. "Anyway, Gohan really likes to watch Piccolo and me when we spar. He's kinda like a one-kid cheering section. Sometimes it's for me, sometimes it's for Piccolo." Goku bowed his head, eyes clouding over with guilt. "It never bugged me before, him cheering for Piccolo. But today, something got to me." He nodded at his injured arm. "This was Piccolo returning the favour for what I did when my control slipped."

ChiChi sighed, then tightened her lips. She motioned for Goku to stop holding his arm, and once he did, she began to fashion the bandage into sling. Oh, she knew what was going on; it was very clear, now. "You know, Gohan-chan has spent most of the past two years hanging around with Piccolo when you weren't here. How often do you two even sit around and talk anymore? When was the last time?"

She happened to glance up at Goku's face after she asked her questions. The guilt had only deepened, and he didn't even bother to answer. Either one was proof enough of the truth.

"I remember back when you two would talk all the time." Unable to help it, she smiled nostalgically. "He was so young back then, and would talk about silly things like all kids that age; but you never treated the conversations like that. Once, Gohan-chan told me that he talked about silly things on purpose, just because it was fun to watch you take them seriously."

At this, she was rewarded with a bright chuckle. "Smart kid. Always was."

"Never a doubt of that." ChiChi finished tying off the bandage. "Personally, I think it's time you two sat down together again. And maybe talk about something serious this time. Like the whole Piccolo issue."

Goku appeared to consider this. "Maybe it is." He grinned down at her. "You're just giving everybody homework today, aren't you?"

* * *

His feet moved all but soundlessly on the floorboards, carried little weight. It was just as well; the clock next to his and ChiChi's bed said that it was shortly past four o'clock in the morning. Too early to get up and actually begin the day. But there were some matters that had to be taken care of first.

The door to Gohan's room was open a crack; he liked to sleep that way. Private, but still with a connection to the outside world. Goku carefully pushed the door open further. He was not worried about it creaking, as he and ChiChi made sure that the house was always in the best of shape. And this faith was rewarded as the door swung even more quietly than his footsteps had fallen.

Goku's eyes were already adjusted to the darkness, so he did not need to wait in order to see properly. Gohan was snuggled up on his side, covers pulled tightly over his small frame. Not so small as it used to be – Goku had never really realized until now how much his son had grown up during his time away. He wished he could have been there.

"Something wrong, Daddy?" Gohan asked without opening his eyes, clearly not concerned.

Hm. Goku wouldn't have expected him to be awake at this time, and found himself wondering just how he had known that he was there. He had made no sound, and his ki was pushed below detectibility from long habit. But he didn't wonder at it for long. Gohan was a pretty perceptive kid and seemed to know a lot of things instinctively without exactly knowing how.

"Nah," Goku said. "But we never got that quality hang-out time the other day. Feel like making up for it?"

Gohan sat up at this statement, caught off guard for once. "Um . . . now? Daddy, it's . . ." He glanced at his bedside clock, " . . . four in the morning."

Goku shrugged. "Well, we're still gonna have a full day of training today. No harm in doing this first."

Gohan wasted no more time in slipping out of his bed. "Well, sure. Does Mom know we're leaving?"

"Nope. But I don't think she'll mind. We'll pop back in for breakfast. And," Goku smiled, "I don't think you want to spend the day training in your pyjamas."

Even in the low light, Goku could see his son's face colour. Kind of nice to see him embarrassed, odd as that might have sounded. It made Gohan seem more childish, more like Goku hadn't missed as much time with him as he had thought.

Goku padded over to the window and lifted it open, not even flinching at a blast of cool air came over him. His arm, now absent of the bandage, ached dully at the sudden change in temperature, but he ignored it. "Come on. I know this great place we can go. But you've gotta keep up with me first!"

For a second, it seemed that Gohan would not have had the slightest trouble doing so. Goku found himself a little bit too big to fit comfortably though the window, and had to squeeze his body into a few weird configurations in order to pass. Behind him, Gohan giggled softly.

Gathering his ki beneath his feet, Goku shot straight up into the sky, enveloped in an aura that glowed pale blue in the early morning darkness. A similar aura flamed to life beneath him as Gohan joined him in the sky.

"That way," Goku said, pointing his finger to the east. "About four hundred miles. Race ya!"

Without another word, Goku shot off eastward, expecting to leave Gohan a bit behind. To his surprise, Gohan managed to get almost dead even with him immediately.

Gohan slid his eyes over to him and grinned. "I think you're gonna have to be faster than that, Daddy."

* * *

Namekseijin didn't need much sleep. A couple of hours at no particular time of day usually sufficed, which was why Piccolo spent so much of his time meditating. To outside eyes, it would appear to be sleep, but if anyone dared to inspect closer he would be in for a rude surprise.

Only Gohan had ever dared, even after he had learned of Piccolo's limited sleep cycle. At first, it might have been honest confusion, but after a while, Piccolo had become convinced that the kid was doing it on purpose just to annoy him. Why did he keep hanging around the kid, again?

These were the kinds of thoughts he tended to work out during meditation, going over them time and time again. Almost as if his conscious mind were trying to remind him of what his subconscious never forgot. Piccolo had come to accept a long time ago, that in spite of everything – or perhaps because of it – he actually did like Gohan's company. But if someone suggested the very thing, he would blast him for it. He and Gohan knew that they were friends. What business was it of anyone else?

Hm. A spark to the air, unnatural in the morning routine. Even during meditation, Piccolo kept his ki sensing awareness active on a radius of several miles. Never would he drop his guard. Lowered defences could lead to death.

The spark vanished as quickly as it had appeared, but Piccolo recognized it all the same. Those had been the ki signatures of Son and Gohan. What could they possibly be up to at this hour, when the vast bulk of humankind slept? There had been no urgency to their flight, only speed. It just wasn't sensible.

Which meant that it was probably Son's idea; Gohan at least followed logical thought processes half the time. What on earth was Son doing, rousing the boy so early? He could be too tired to do proper training matches today and that was wasteful not just to them, but to the entire world. And even were he to condone such early rising, it would not be for some frivolous game. It would be time for work, not play. And in that case, those two should have come for him.

But they sped right by, barely flickers of ki before they were gone. By Kami – however much it galled him to swear to that wretched old man – Son was going to ruin his pupil's . . .

Piccolo stopped his thoughts here, took a deep breath as he felt tension in his muscles. Damn it, he had broken the meditation. Emotion was the enemy to the meditative state, and a particular emotion had begun to overwhelm his senses enough for him to stop.

He sighed in disgust. How far had he fallen, now? To actually be jealous of Son, and over his brat, no less. Why did it matter so much? And since when had he been so possessive over Gohan anyway? It couldn't have always been like that.

Still, he remembered the incident just two evenings ago, when Son had eyed him almost menacingly in the clearing. That was quite an unusual thing for Son to be doing; even when they had been enemies, Piccolo could not remember ever having that sort of expression turned upon him. Were he of lesser pride and composure, he would have called the glare withering.

Son had never turned such a glare on him in combat, so seeing it outside of combat made the whole experience stranger still. Unlike himself, Son did not anger easily. But perhaps there was an explanation for this.

Gohan had been sitting in his lap that night. Not that Piccolo had wanted him to, of course. But he had needed to meditate and the kid was hungry, which meant that he wasn't going to bother him with attempts at pointless conversation. The quiet was good for his meditation, so he did whatever it took to slip into it when Gohan was there. Arguments over not being the kid's sofa didn't really get very far, anyway.

So was that the problem? That Son actually didn't want him near Gohan, either? The idea bothered him more than he thought it would have. Most of the world didn't trust him, and he was fine with that, but somehow, his opinion seemed to matter. Damn him.

The thought was more than disturbing, and thus it was obstructive. Forcibly, Piccolo pushed it out of his mind, and bowed his head once more.

* * *

He had to admit that Gohan was showing an impressive amount of endurance. Even though they were flying at high speeds and thus rapidly expending a lot of ki, he had shown no signs of fatigue. In fact, he had even gotten ahead of Goku at a couple of points. But then, Gohan's ki had been incredibly animated ever since he had popped out of bed. It was good to see him so excited about a little bit of quality time. Good for both of them.

Their destination came up in the distance, rocketing toward them at tremendous speed. Goku angled his flight downward a few degrees, and felt Gohan follow suit behind him. Within seconds, he touched down on a big rock face, allowing his aura to extinguish around him. And a fraction of a second after he did so, Gohan managed the same.

"Wow!" Gohan breathed. "This place looks so cool!"

"Didn't I tell you it was amazing?"

He had seen the place several times during the various trips around the world he had taken. High rock pillars, pointed at the top, but with flat slabs of stone resting across them. He had learned the name of the place from Bulma, back when she had been trying to teach him some geography. Most of it had just flown in one ear and out the other, but the names of the most interesting places he had visited stayed well in his mind. This was certainly one of them. "Spindletop Flats."

Gohan hopped of the ledge, presumably to examine the pillar below. He made a little sound of childlike wonder.

"Daddy, these pillars come to a perfect point on top. It's not blunt at all. How do you suppose it can support the weight of all these rocks?"

Goku shrugged merrily. "I think I'm the wrong guy to go asking about stuff like that. You're the one who likes all the scientific explanations. I just chalk it up to the world being a magical place."

Gohan giggled. "Well, yeah. It is. Still, I think I'll have to check my geology book after we get home. I bet it's got something in there."

For several minutes, Goku just watched him; he floated from pillar to pillar with practiced ease, studying each one in turn. And even through the silence, Goku could not help but smile. Gohan looked so young again, had such an innocent excitement upon his face, just like those times that Goku would take him out into the woods and show him all the really neat plants and animals. The times before Piccolo could even have been considered an issue.

Eventually, Goku hopped off the slab to join Gohan under the pillar he was currently examining; Gohan was orbiting around it like a miniature moon, gazing at it in pure wonderment.

"Can't take your eyes off it, huh?" Goku chuckled. "Would have though you might have gotten sick of that kind of scenery after that year with Piccolo."

Gohan glanced at him. "Nah. And we were mostly in the desert anyway. We never came to cool places like this; he thought it would be a waste of time with the Saiyajins on the way." Gohan smiled in amusement. "You know, he was grumpy that we took the day off the other day."

"But that's just him, right? Always did prefer action to talking."

Gohan laughed, moved on to inspect another slab on a shorter pillar. "Yeah, but I think he likes listening. He just won't admit it. And it's not like he'll ask me about stuff. Oh and speaking of which . . . " Gohan forgot his scientific examinations for the moment. "Thanks for asking."

Goku blinked. That seemed to be a pretty odd thing to say about an offhand comment. "What did I need to be thanked for?"

Gohan shrugged. "Just that you asked. I mean I don't expect Piccolo-san to do that; kinda nice to hear. But it also seemed to bug him a little when I talked about you. I'm glad you think it's okay that I talk about him."

Hm. That was odd. He didn't think Piccolo the type to be bothered by such a thing; his thoughts were usually clear, and he didn't much care about other people's opinions. Why would that bother him so much? Just because they used to be enemies?

No, that couldn't have been it. If it were, then Piccolo would not have been able to tolerate the mere sight of him, would have had nothing to do with him until those jinzouningen showed up in a couple of years.

And then it clicked. Maybe he had been attacking this problem from the wrong direction.

"Um . . . Daddy?" Gohan's voice jolted him back into the world. "Are you okay?"

Goku smiled, his first genuinely pleased expression in the past three days. "Perfect." He took a glance at the sky, seeing the first streaks of dawn lighting upon the horizon. "Starting to get light out. How about you head on home, get changed and have a little breakfast before we start training."

Gohan nodded, gathered himself to fly off, but then paused. Blinked. "Aren't you coming?

"I will in a little bit. Just got something that I need to take care of first. Nothing to worry about. Just go on ahead."

Gohan still looked a little bewildered. Then he just shrugged. "Okay. See you at home."

A pale blue aura sprung up around Gohan and Goku braced himself against the displacement of air that came even from takeoffs from a thousand feet. He watched Gohan's form retreat into the distance, staying in sight for only the shortest of seconds.

Thus satisfied, Goku focused his ki sensing awareness over a wide area. Once he found the signature that he was looking for, he put two fingers up to his forehead. And vanished.

* * *

He touched down on the grass before the sky was fully light, and took a peek inside one of the windows to see if his mother was up yet. After a second of scrutiny, he found that he could see a strip of light in the hallway, probably leaking out from the bathroom. Good. He wouldn't be waking her.

He popped into the house, heading directly for the kitchen. Perhaps if he got in there enough ahead of her, he could snag a little something sweet before she cooked him breakfast. Gohan floated up to one of the cupboards and opened the door. He found a package of sticky buns hiding behind two jars of peanut butter – as though those would stop a determined snacker – and slid them out.

"Gohan-chan!"

He dropped the package and spun around in midair. His mother stood in the doorway, arms folded, expression dark. Even wearing an old bathrobe and with messy hair, she managed to look intimidating. "Uh . . . good morning, Mom."

"And what did you think you were doing, young man?" She pointed to the package on the floor. "Planning on ruining your appetite for breakfast?"

Privately, Gohan thought that it would have taken quite a few packages of the stuff to even begin to put a dent into his appetite. But good boys simply did not argue with their mothers. It just wasn't the way that things were done.

"Put those back, and I'll get some real food on the table."

"Yes, Mom."

Once he had done what he had been bidden, he stopped to watch his mother cook. He had always found it funny, the way she zipped back and forth across the kitchen at speeds that were nearly superhuman. Had she kept up her training, she would have surpassed that wall; he was quite certain of it.

"And where did you father disappear to? He wasn't here when I got up this morning."

Gohan hopped into one of the kitchen chairs. "Oh, he got me up a little earlier. We went off to this really neat place just to hang out."

Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he caught his mother smiling in profile. He didn't really see what the big deal was. In fact, the smile in itself was a bit odd. He had expected a bit of a scolding about sneaking off without telling her, and being out of the house in his pyjamas.

"Well, I'm glad that you and your dad got to spend some quality time together." Eggs sizzled in a pan, and she took a second to flip them before putting on a pot of water to boil. "You'd do well to be spending more time around him than around Piccolo."

Gohan bowed his head. This was a touchy subject around the house. He knew full well that his mother did not approve of Piccolo, that she thought he might hurt him or something. In fact, most of the others didn't trust Piccolo that much. Daddy understood, and though it had taken a little time, Gohan was certain that Kuririn had, too. Hopefully, his mother would learn to accept it in time. She would see.

"Mom, I still hang out with Dad," he said. Somewhat timidly, he raised his head to see his mother regarding him gravely. "I really do. We've all just been really busy lately."

Sighing, his mother scooped food from a few different pots onto a plate. "And the other day? You were busy then, too?"

"Well, I . . ." Gohan stopped, realizing that he really had nothing to say to this. He watched as his mother set the plate down in front of him, but did not immediately move to devour its contents.

The other day . . . He had completely forgotten about his father that morning, that they were just going to take a break and mess around for a while. The only thought in his head was that with a day of downtime he could just sit around and discuss things with Piccolo. It was, in truth, a rare occasion; Piccolo was not a believer in off days. Even so, how could he have just forgotten Daddy entirely?

His mother tilted his head up gently. "Gohan-chan, we've got a problem here. I think that you can tell that now."

Without satisfaction, Gohan nodded. Yes, he understood that there was a problem. He had even figured out what it was.

The problem, perversely, was that Daddy and Piccolo-san were both around. He had never forgotten either in favour of the other before because the possibility had not existed before now. They had never both been present at the same time. He had gotten so used to only one of them being there . . .

"So, will you do something about this problem now?" his mother asked, and smiled when he nodded. "Good boy. And where exactly is your father? I would have expected him to be in by now."

"Oh, he told me to come back by myself. Said that there was something he needed to do . . ."

Gohan bit his tongue, a sudden flutter of worry in his stomach. He cast out his senses to find his father's ki. It didn't take long, as it wasn't that far away. And nor was it alone. Maybe he ought to go out there, just to make sure that everything was okay.

"Gohan-chan, what's the matter?"

"Huh? Oh . . ." Gohan felt his cheeks colour as he realized that his mother must have noticed his sudden worry. He smiled for her sake. "Nothing, Mom. But could you maybe pack up all the breakfast here so I can take it to Dad? Please?"

His mother frowned in concern for a second, then patted his shoulder. "Sure thing, sweetie. But you go and get dressed while I'm at it; don't you dare leave the house in your pyjamas again."

* * *

The world flashed back into existence around him, and Goku took a second to acclimate himself to his sudden new surroundings. Warmer air washed over him; the roar of a waterfall filled his ears. Almost imperceptibly, a fine mist rolled around him, brought on by the rush of the falling water against bedrock.

And in front of him, a cape gently billowed out in the breeze, the only thing stirring in the clearing. Certainly not the wearer of the cape, though Goku knew perfectly well that Piccolo was aware of his presence. Normally, Goku would have expected at least a somewhat derisive glance over the shoulder, but this time he was not rewarded with even that much.

"Hi there, Piccolo." He glanced about the clearing. "Nice little spot you've got here."

Ah, there was the usual over the shoulder glare. Odd that a hostile gesture could be such a welcome thing to see.

"Early for you to be about. And by the way, you forgot your kid."

There was an underlying quality to Piccolo's voice that Goku could not recall ever having heard before. His mind drifted back to earlier this morning, when Gohan had mentioned that Piccolo seemed bothered by the fact that he talked about him. A revelation dawned in Goku's mind, but he didn't voice it aloud. After all, he doubted that Piccolo would react well to an accusation of jealousy.

Instead, he laughed nervously, one hand rubbing at the back of his head. "Yeah. He's back at home having breakfast. I decided to come out here instead."

Piccolo grunted. "That's a first. Are you finally going to tell me why, or do you expect me to guess? Though I'd much rather get back to where we left off yesterday."

Goku dropped his arm, reminded of that particular incident. His injury was largely healed at this point, only indicated by a mild but pervading ache in the bone.

"Yeah, about that . . ." Goku began. "Look, I'm sorry about that whole thing. It was my fault. I guess I'm just not really used to hearing Gohan say that kind of stuff."

At this, Piccolo moved out of his usual floating meditative posture to alight on the ground. He turned to face him, expression unreadable. But his words made up for that. "How dare the kid support the demon rather than his own father, right?"

Goku felt his face harden. Honestly . . . "Come on, Piccolo. I would think you know better than that. I never thought that you were a demon. And since when did I ever have a problem with you and Gohan being friends?"

Piccolo crossed his arms over his chest, somehow managing to look angry at the gist of the question while still being deeply offended at the suggestion of friendship. "I think, for once, that we have a question that you're better equipped to answer than I am."

"I don't have a problem with it." Goku glanced away briefly from Piccolo's unbelieving stare. This wasn't coming across the way he wanted it to. He sighed, tried again. "I really don't. I'm just not used to his attention being divided up like that. It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that it's you."

"Hm." Piccolo's face reverted to its unreadable state. "Yes, you both seem to have an abnormal need for attention. He certainly keeps bothering me for it." The last sentence was growled with a hint of fond irritation. Piccolo could try to hide his feelings all he liked; he really wasn't fooling anyone.

Goku suppressed a grin; this was supposed to be a serious conversation. "And you really don't feel like giving it when he likes to talk about me, do you?"

"What makes you think I ever cared to give it in the first place?" The growl had deepened now, and Goku could see muscles tense under Piccolo's weighted cape.

"Okay, okay." Goku had to tighten his lips to keep a giggle from popping out, while still raising his palms in a gesture for peace. Seeing Piccolo trying to mask jealousy was just too funny. "All I'm saying is that we shouldn't let ourselves get crazy over the whole thing like we have been. I don't think Gohan was doing it on purpose. Just kinda weird for him to have both of us around, I think."

Piccolo shrugged, turned his back. "Fine. You want to control yourself, then do so. I never lost my head; who Gohan pays attention to doesn't matter to me."

This time, Goku could not stop the giggle. And though he couldn't see it, he could practically feel Piccolo roll his eyes. The tension that had been working through the air between them for the past three days swirled off, perhaps siphoned off by the mist.

"Oh, for the love of – would you stop that inane giggling already? Kami, that's worse than Gohan's!"

It was then that Goku felt a familiar prickling of his senses. A powerful ki signature approached at a steady pace, and would probably arrive within a few minutes. Gohan.

A sudden thought struck Goku, and he turned back to Piccolo. "You know, I never got to thank you for looking out for him all that time that I was away. I really appreciate that."

Piccolo didn't bother to face him again; he merely waved one hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Now could you shut up about this whole mess? If Gohan hears this, he'll get the fool idea that I've gone soft. I don't even want to think of where that might lead."

The fool idea indeed. Piccolo had gone "soft" a long time ago, and just wouldn't acknowledge it. Besides, Gohan already knew it, had known long before anyone else had. But Goku made no mention of this; Piccolo was a prideful guy, and there really was no harm in letting him maintain his dignity.

"No problem, Pic."

Piccolo emitted a bizarre sound from his throat. "Gah! Son, I've told you not to call me that!"

"Right. Guess I forgot for a second," Goku said, deliberately failing to keep a teasing quality out of his voice.

Piccolo's only reply was a groan.

Gradually, Gohan came into view in the sky, and within a matter of seconds he touched down in front of him. Dressed in his usual Piccolo-inspired training gi and with a backpack slung over his shoulder, he was the very picture of cheerfulness if ever there was one.

"Hi, Daddy!"

"About time you showed up, kid," Piccolo said.

A brief chuckle spouted from Gohan's lips. "Good morning to you too, Piccolo-san. Anyway," he continued, turning his attention back to Goku, "I sensed the two of you here together and thought I should hurry on over. You guys weren't going to start without me today, were you?"

Goku reached down and tousled his son's hair. "Now why would we do a crazy thing like that? Just wouldn't be the same without you around."

Gohan smiled up at him for a second, but then this expression faded into something a little more sombre and vaguely calculating. He hadn't really seen Gohan trying to be discreet before, but he had the feeling that this was exactly what he was doing. Gohan glanced over at Piccolo for a few seconds, then back to him. Then repeated the process twice more. Almost imperceptibly, Gohan nodded to himself as though what he saw pleased him.

"Well that's good," Gohan said after a moment. He shrugged off the backpack, deftly catching one of the straps before it hit the ground. "Actually, I really didn't think you would have started anyway. You never could train on an empty stomach, Daddy."

As Goku watched, Gohan began pulling several containers out of the backpack. Goku didn't even have to look at any of them in order to tell what was in each one; the scents did all of the work for him. Eggs and pancakes. Sausages and diced potatoes. And bacon, and . . .

"So, I asked Mom to pack up the food so that we could have a little breakfast picnic." He pulled a bottle of syrup out of the pack, then a dented package of sticky buns. Goku gave him a questioning look; ChiChi didn't allow either of them to eat those at breakfast. Gohan gave him an apologetic glance. "Uh, don't tell her I took those, okay?"

"What, and get us both into trouble? My lips are sealed." Kneeling down, he worked one out of the package and stuffed it whole into his mouth. "So I guess," he said around fits of chewing, "Piccolo would be the only one who could blow our cover. What do you think it would take to buy his silence?"

He imagined that Gohan would have answered, but the boy's mouth was already full. Ever the proper student of manners, Gohan would not even attempt to speak with his mouth full, no matter how much he wanted to do so.

"Don't try to drag me into this nonsense. I'm not getting involved in such a ridiculous deception, especially one that involves that crazy woman."

Gohan swallowed the bite he had been chewing. "Looks like we're safe, then. But then, Piccolo's good at keeping secrets, Daddy. If you ever want one to be safe, just tell him."

Goku felt an almost wicked grin split his face. "You know, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea; I ought to try that one sometime." He looked over his shoulder toward Piccolo. "What do you think about that, Pic? Sounds like fun!"

Piccolo growled under his breath. "Just shut up and finish the damn food, both of you. Then, someone is going to get beaten bloody. I swear."

Goku just nodded. Insults and casual threats. . . It was good to see everything back to normal.


End file.
